Burn Baby Burn
by AshCrash44
Summary: Co-written by Dangermouse00. Amy had seen her brother die and she knew who was to blame, The Winchester Boys. Now she sets out on a quest to get revenge for her lost brother.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One -

Hey Guys- We hope you enjoy this story and soon we're going to start another one together. We don't own Supernatural no matter how much we wished we did. Review.

**Dangermouse00 and AshCrash44**

**Chapter One - **

Clambering through the dense forest, Amy came to a clearing. She stopped abruptly at the sight of the body on the ground and rushed over to him. There was not much of him to recognise anymore. The man she had once known was now just a lump of broken meat. However, he was still wearing his chain. The chain she had given to him on his 21st birthday, so it had to be him.

It pained her desperately to admit that it was her big brother lying dead amongst the twigs and sticks on the ground. She needed him, but now he was gone and Amy knew exactly who was to blame and she'd make damn well sure they'd pay for it.

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"So, you didn't notice anything unusual about your husband?" asked Dean. As always, he was dressed in a dark suit, to further convince the woman that he and Sam were both insurance investigators, merely looking into a claim.

"No nothing. He was a lovely man, always considerate, very generous." The woman smiled weakly at her memories of her dead husband and the many years they'd spent together.

Dean and Sam asked a few more questions, and eventually decided to call it a day. Both were tired and Sam definitely wanted to do a little more research before his body crashed out. They'd been working this gig for days. It was starting to look like a vengeful spirit, so the boys wanted to be well rested before they had to dig up a grave.

They arrived back at the motel later than planned. Dean had wanted to make an unscheduled stop at a bar along the way leaving him rather the worse for wear. Sam had had to drive them both back and put a drunken Dean to bed.

He spent an hour or so doing some more research, until he figured he was too tired to do anymore. After shutting down his laptop he piled the papers, he'd been studying carefully, on top of it. Sam had just got settled when his phone rang.

"Hello?" said Sam, wearily. All he wanted was to just drift into a dreamless sleep. The last few days had been hard and sleep was a welcome comfort. "Hello, is someone there?"

Sam's question was met with silence. A creepy, eerie silence.

It felt wrong and Sam wanted to hang up immediately, but the strange caller got in first and hung up, before Sam got the chance. He made a mental note to himself to mention it to Dean tomorrow. He climbed back into bed, switched off the lamp on the nightstand and fell into a peaceful slumber.

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Amy closed the phone. It was late, but she wasn't tired. She wanted to carry on with the task she had set herself that morning. Keeping watch. Holding Back. There was nothing more that Amy wanted to do than go right across the parking lot and into that room. They would be asleep. Defenceless. She could do anything. Kill them even. All she had to do was a little gunshot wound here, maybe a stab wound there. They wouldn't feel a thing. All of her pent-up anger and grief would be gone in a swift flick of a knife.

Amy endured the rest of the moonlight and stood at the window of her shabby motel room, looking out at the one across the parking lot. Her blank mind roamed somewhere distant. The hours passed and night turned to day. Still she stood at the window. Watching, waiting.

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Dean woke early next morning. His head was pounding and he was beginning to wish that he'd never stopped at the bar. Even a dose of Tylenol would not fend off the drums beating his brain to pieces.

Meanwhile, Sam, who'd woken up fresh and revitalised, was sitting back at his laptop, clicking away at various different folklore websites.

"How can you be so happy at 9 o'clock in the morning?" Moaned Dean.

"It's called staying sober, Dean. It's what normal people do."

"I'm normal."

"Yeah, right. I don't think normal people shout Scooby doo and Sponge Bob in their sleep, Dean." Said Sam, getting up and moving towards his duffle. He picked out a towel and some clean clothes.

"I don't do that!" Argued Dean.

Sam just sniggered as he entered the bathroom and locked the door, intending to take a long hot shower.

Dean sulked for several minutes, before coming up with a payback plan. He sat down at Sam's laptop and was happy to discover that Sam had forgotten to lock it. He typed in his favourite website of all time and leant back while the system crashed.

Sam's cell rang and Dean, never one to leave a phone ringing, automatically picked it up and answered.

"Hello?" He said. "Hello? Earth to caller, I have answered your distress call."

Still there was no answer, so Dean hung up.

_Strange _He thought _Who the hell was that and why didn't they say anything? Maybe Sammy's got himself a girl and doesn't want me to know._

If only it were that simple.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

Amy woke to darkness. The chair she fallen asleep in was uncomfortable. But she didn't care. All she cared about was whether she'd missed anything. Amy got up quickly and rushed over to the window. The car was gone, so must they have been. They'd be back. They were on a hunt. Hunters don't abandon hunts like they are worth nothing. People could get hurt, maybe killed.

From experience, Amy could tell that they were hunting a spirit, a vengeful one and that they'd need to salt and burn the corpse to get rid of it. Tonight seemed like the right time for them to do it. They would probably leave tomorrow.

That's when she'd do it. Tonight, when they were out. Across the parking lot and into their room. Anything could be a clue. A tiny clue to where they were going next.

Usually there was nothing except old newspapers and obits behind, but sometimes there were little things left in the trash that would give a huge hint to where they were heading.

And often she didn't need a hint. She'd studied their behavior for the past month, scrutinizing every little thing and figuring out why. One was a player, he went to bars, got drunk and slept with numerous women. The other was quiet, more reserved. As if it was illegal to be like the other.

Amy knew them well. Well enough to know who were their friends and who were their enemies.

She was still standing at window when she heard a shuffling noise behind her. She turned and saw the thing that was standing there. Amy wasn't scared. It would not harm her.

"Hello, Amy. I see you are still on task." It said, with a hint of a slight sneer in its voice.

"Yes, I am."

"I know you want revenge, so I'm here to help you get it." The creature was talking low and calmly, enunciating every word clearly. "I have resources, resources that could push it further along."

"No, I can do it alone."

"Really? It's been a month and all you've managed is a few cold calls. Looks as if you're losing your grip on the situation. Let me help you."

"Help me? Why would a demon want to help me?" asked Amy.

"Because I'm not like other demons. I care about you. You remind me of someone I used to know. Let me help you."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

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I can't believe she agreed to it. She should know never to trust a demon. Well, someone like myself shouldn't really be trusted, should I? I mean, I just lied straight to her face and she believed it all. She believed I wanted to help her just for the sake of it, when in fact it goes much deeper than that.

I want them dead, and so does she. Why can't someone else do my dirty work?

I know it's cruel, but hey I am a demon after all. We're not supposed to be all caring and sharing, are we?

She's driven and she'll achieve her goal. And with little old me behind her, she'll be unstoppable.

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Dean finished digging and climbed out the grave. Sam passed him the gasoline and the salt. He salted the rotten remains and poured the gas over it. Sam struck a match and threw it into the hole.

The flames lapped at the bones turning them to ash. Soon that was all that was left, and the boys filled in the grave. The smell of burnt rubber still hung in the air. It was a smell the brothers had grown used to. The stench of death.

They picked up their trash and made their way back to the impala. Dean drove them both back to the motel, where the gathered up their stuff ready for when there were leaving tomorrow.

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Amy threw the small plastic on the table. Opening it she took out the newspaper and laid it next to the bag. It was dog-eared and worn from the days it had spent in a duffle bag.

Amy trawled through page after page until she found what she was looking for. The obituaries. She looked along the first page and came across a circled one. A switched turned in her head, and she figured this was where they were heading next.

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"Sam, have you seen the newspaper I had?" asked Dean.

"No, what do I look like, your own personal newsstand?"

Dean shut up as soon as he saw Sam's annoyed look. He wasn't usually this bad-tempered.

"Whoa Sammy, what's got you all riled this morning?"

"I can't find the newspaper, some of my razors are missing and we've run out of toothpaste." Explained Sam.

"Calm down, Sammy. God you need to get laid, you seem a little…." Dean stopped as soon as he saw Sam's scowl. "Okay, okay. I guess I'll go and get you some toothpaste. If it'll make ya happy."

"Yeah, it will." Dean put on his jacket and grabbed his car keys. He left the motel, climbed into the Impala and drove off in the direction of the nearest minimart.

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Usually, Amy didn't have dreams, but last night was different. Her mind was flooded with memories of her lost brother. Happy memories, but that's all they were, memories.

She woke up in tears and rushed to the table where the small plastic bag was located. She tipped the contents out onto the wooden surface and picked up one of the small razors.

Amy sat down on the bed and gently pressed it onto the skin of her forearm. The pain of the cutting brought immediate relief. The blood seeping from her skin told her that she should stop doing it, but she didn't want to. The sadness dripped from her body and she could finally relax a little.

That was until Amy heard the roar of an engine as it left the parking lot. She knew who it was and why they were leaving.

She placed the bloody razor onto the nightstand. It was nearly time to go, so she began packing, as she wondered what the next destination held for her and the two guys she was hunting.


End file.
